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Jisung likes his roommate, he really does. Chan is a nice guy, they’re in the same major, and they workout together. What Jisung doesn’t like is Chan’s fuckbuddy, Minho.
They all need to blow off steam sometimes (hey, Jisung is in his twenties, too), he gets it, but what Chan does not get is that their apartment has paper-thin walls that let every little sound through. And Minho is not quiet.
It’s already happened twice this week where Jisung has had to wear his noise-canceling headphones to bed because of the lewd noises coming through the walls.
Minho knows Jisung too. He’s over enough that he’s grown comfortable around him and jokes with him. It would all be fine and dandy, if only Jisung’s wild imagination would stop trying to picture what Minho looks like fucked out and making the sounds he was making last night.
Honestly, no one moans like that and doesn’t not want to be heard, right?
So Jisung crunches on his dry cereal (because Chan drank all the milk and forgot to buy more) and glares at Minho from across the table. He didn’t get any sleep last night, first hearing Minho moaning Chan’s name, and then trying to stifle his own moans while he furiously jacked off to his roommate and his roommate’s fuckbuddy going at it like rabbits.
“You have class today, Jisunggie?” Minho asks while scrolling through social media on his phone. Jisung crunches his mouthful of cereal oh-so slowly.
“No,” he responds, mouth full. He wants to take his one class-free day and get as much sleep as possible.
“Really,” Minho gasps sarcastically. He scratches his neck and Jisung nearly drops all of the cereal in his mouth when he catches sight of a dark hickey.
“Chan’s in class,” Jisung deadpans when he chokes down the dry cereal. Minho hums in response, still scrolling. “Aren’t you gonna leave?”
“I was just gonna hang out here until he gets back.” Jisung squints from across the table and Minho doesn’t look up from his phone.
“Last night wasn’t enough?” Jisung grumbles before he can think twice about his words. His cheeks heat up and his eyes go wide, and he pretends not to notice the way Minho’s attention detours from his phone screen.
He can hear the older man’s sly smirk when he says, “Were you listening to us? Hm, Jisunggie?”
Oh shit.
He hears Minho’s chair scoot across the floor and his soft footsteps sidle over to him. There’s hot breath ghosting in his neck, prickling the hair on his nape. Minho whispers, “Do you like it? The way I moan for Channie-hyung?”
Jisung’s breath hitches. He feels his cock twitch in his pants. His breakfast is ruined and so is his nap.
“I could hear you too,” Minho’s sultry voice soothes. His lips brush against the shell of Jisung’s ear, and he shivers. “Your cute little whimpers coming from the other side of the wall. Made me even hornier while Chan was fucking me.”
Jisung balls his fists in his hoodie and pulls it over his lap in a feeble attempt to hide the bulge growing between his legs. Shit. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t gotten laid in months.
His worst(?) fears manifest right in front of him when Minho’s silky-brown eyes are staring him down and his strong thighs are wrapping around his waist, squeezing slightly. Jisung gasps, audibly, when the swell of Minho’s ass grinds hard against his cock.
Minho comes close to his ear and whispers, “You can fuck me too, you know. I’d like that, Channie would too.”
Jisung’s teeth are cracking with how hard he’s clenching his jaw. Evidently, the force isn’t enough, because he whimpers pathetically at Minho’s words and bucks his hips. Minho gasps.
“But you wouldn’t like that,” the older man murmurs, voice faint, eyes lidding. He trails his dry lips along the column of Jisung’s neck. “You wanna be fucked, hm?”
Jisung keens, and it takes all of his willpower for him to say, “What do you think you’re talking about?”, rather than what he actually wants to say: yes-fucking-please.
“I’m just trying to get to know you, Jisunggie,” Minho pouts. He pulls away and Jisung silently curses himself. “You’re my dongsaeng, and as your hyung, it’s my job to take care of you.” He wets his lips and slinks back in. “Whichever way that is.”
Jisung can’t hold back the low moan that rumbles through him when Minho sucks wetly at the base of his neck, right where it starts to curve into his shoulder.
“Shit,” he gasps. Goosebumps tingle along his arms, and his back arches off the chair as he gives Minho more access to his skin. Minho hums in approval, bring his hands up to trace all over Jisung’s front.
“Your gym sessions with Chan are paying off,” Minho comments. He grasps at Jisung’s waist, tight. “Slutty.”
The absolute worst, most embarrassingly whiny whimper gets caught in Jisung’s throat at the slur, and he quivers in Minho’s grip. Unfortunately, Minho has good ears, and Jisung is not as quiet as he thinks.
“You like that?” Minho questions, slipping his cool fingers underneath Jisung’s hoodie. “Being called a slut? A whore?” Jisung nods dopily, mouth dropping when Minho pinches his nipples. This is absolutely not how he was expecting to spend his Tuesday morning. And he hasn’t even finished his breakfast!
Minho slides Jisung’s sweater over his head and latches onto the honey skin, lips searing where they leave his mark in between his pecs. Jisung barely has his hands out of the armholes when he reflexively grabs onto Minho’s hair, earning a low groan in response.
He can feel the bruise being sucked into his skin, painful, blossoming. It makes precum leak out from his tip.
“Hyung,” Jisung moans, rutting up against the meat of Minho’s ass. God, he wants to grab onto him so fucking bad. And what’s stopping him?
His hands come down to grip onto Minho’s waist and push him down onto his aching cock. Jisung bucks his hips at the friction and they both moan loudly.
“So cute,” Minho says. He swipes the bowl away from them, the metal spoon clattering in the porcelain, and gets off of Jisung’s lap.
Jisung whines at the loss, hips rocking into the air. “Hyung.”
Minho’s hands take hold of his underarms and lift him out of the chair, Jisung yelping at the movement and Minho grinning. “Up you go.”
He’s settled onto the top of the table, creaking under his weight, and before he can complain, Minho’s lips are on his, and quick fingers are pulling at his sweatpants.
Jisung’s head spins from the double-whammy sensations. He won’t lie and say that he’s never looked at Minho’s pink lips and didn’t imagine how they’d taste. Now, he can for sure say that he’s captivated.
Minho is a good kisser, it’s not really a surprise. Jisung likes being told what to do, and Minho’s figured him out pretty quick, taking the lead and licking into his mouth at the first chance he gets. Soft hands are yanking his sweats below his hips, just past his knees, boxers pulled along too with such force that the seams are stretching to their limits.
A high whine leaves Jisung’s throat when Minho’s fingers finally wrap around his hard cock, giving him a loose tug. He bucks into the touch, whimpering, writhing, frustrated and horny beyond comprehension.
Minho kisses him one last time and says, “Sit tight.” Jisung is too caught up in his head to register it at first, still chasing after those cherry lips. He pouts when Minho disappears down the hall, presumably into Chan’s room, leaving Jisung sitting on the table, pants hanging off of his knees, and head spinning.
When the older man comes back with a bottle of lube and a condom packet, Jisung’s eyes are glued to the very obvious hard-on he’s sporting beneath his own sweatpants.
“You’re a starer, you know,” Minho smirks, setting down the items in his hand on the table and kissing Jisung again. He pushes against his chest, guiding Jisung to lay down on the cold tabletop, while he pulls his pants off the rest of the way, leaving Jisung naked and exposed. It makes Jisung shiver, instinctively wanting to cover up but not wanting Minho’s eyes off of him.
Breaths get caught up in his throat when Minho smoothes his hands all along his body. Cupping his breasts and giving them a squeeze, tracing the sides of his belly, and massaging the skin on his hips. Jisung opens his legs instinctually.
“Look at you,” Minho murmurs to himself. Jisung wriggles. “What an obedient little slut.” He runs a finger up Jisung’s twitching shaft. “Wet too, like a bitch in heat.”
“Minho,” Jisung whines, though it’s barely more than a squeak. Minho spreads him wide and Jisung flushes from his head down to his chest.
Minho spits against his throbbing hole. Jisung can feel it, wet against him, inside him. More precum leaks out.
There’s a brief pause where Minho just stares at his glistening hole before he circles his thumb around the rim, smearing the saliva and dipping in just a bit. Jisung claws at the table and arches his back. It’s a little dry, but it’s turning him on even more.
What has gotten into him? Usually, he likes it wet, sloppy, when the cock spearing him is slipping out. And he’s a sucker for vanilla sex because he likes to koala himself and scratch along his partner’s back.
Minho is definitely bringing out a side of him that has solely lived in his Pornhub search history.
Just Minho’s thumb slowly thrusts inside of him, thick but not long enough. Still, it leaves Jisung panting because he’s a horny twenty-one-year-old who hasn’t been laid in months.
“Ah, Minho.” Jisung shimmies his hips, trying to take the stubby finger deeper. Minho tugs at his rim.
“Why so wiggly, Jisunggie?” he simpers. “You want more?”
Yes.
Jisung whines petulantly in response.
“Good boy.” Minho’s other thumb pushes its way inside of him, pulling him apart.
God, if it weren’t for the angle, Minho could be hitting his prostate twice over. Jisung chews on his bottom lip at the thought, brows furrowing in frustration.
Fuck Minho. He’s a loud asshole and a fucking tease. But maybe that’s why Jisung is so turned on by him.
He’s handsome, that’s for sure, and he looks good with Chan. He probably likes it on all fours, head pressed into the mattress, fucked so hard that Chan’s headboard smacks the wall.
“Oh my god,” Jisung gasps, back arching high off the table. Minho’s tongue is prodding at his opened hole, hot and wet, wriggling its way inside of him. He brings a hand to grip Minho’s hair.
Minho hums inside of him, sending shivers up his spine. The vibrations feel insane against his rim, and Minho’s tongue licks him inside-out.
“Hyung.” Jisung moans, loud, when Minho delves deeper, nose pushing up against his perineum and thumbs massaging his walls.
There’s so much going on inside of him: Minho’s tongue, his fingers, a churning in his belly. All it takes is for Minho to spit against his hole again and fuck the wet glob deeper with his tongue and Jisung is coming all over himself, white-hot and vision blurring.
He spasms on the table, hand holding harsh in Minho’s hair. Minho works him through it and raises his head when Jisung gasps for breath.
“That was quick,” he snickers. Jisung would roll his eyes if he had any muscles working. “My turn.”
The rustling of foil and the sharp click! of the lube bottle echo in the dining room. Jisung doesn’t have any time to register anything before he feels a blunt object prodding him, and his heaving breaths cease.
“M-Minho,” Jisung whimpers. “Can’t, not so soo—”
“You can,” Minho instructs. He pushes in. Jisung’s head hits the table as he feels Minho split him open, hot tears prickling his eyes from oversensitivity.
Shit. Minho really must have access to his search history or something. That’s the only explanation. He’s checking all of the boxes of his top five kinks that he’s too embarrassed to say out loud.
It feels like Minho is pressing into him forever. He has the largest dick that Jisung has ever taken, and just girth of it leaves drool pooling in his mouth. When he bottoms out, Jisung’s stomach flips.
“Shit,” Minho curses. He hikes Jisung’s legs onto his shoulders and gives a shallow thrust, giving Jisung no time to get accustomed to the cock splitting him in two. “You’re fucking tight.” He rolls his hips again and Jisung mewls.
After a few slow thrusts for adjustment, Minho rests his palms flat on the table, Jisung’s legs caged between his arms, and starts a ruthless pace that has Jisung rocking up on the surface with each thrust.
“Minho!” Jisung scrabbles for purchase on the wood. Minho bottoms out with every thrust, their skin slapping together, lube squelching obscenely. Jisung’s stomach does somersaults the entire time, acrobatics that punch right into his next orgasm. The tears stinging his eyes are dripping down his cheeks. He’s hot all over, he’s hot inside, boiling, brewing.
“You were made for this,” Minho rambles. He leans down and takes Jisung’s tear-stained cheeks in hand and pulls him so that they’re face-to-face.
Minho is sweating, bangs sticking to his forehead, and his shoulder muscles ripple with tension as he keeps himself steady. Jisung opens his mouth to groan at the sight, but Minho takes the opportunity to drip a glob of spit into his mouth.
When it touches his tongue, Jisung cracks and pulls Minho down into an open-mouthed kiss. It’s all clacking teeth as Minho fucks him hard, and when they part for breath, Jisung bites onto Minho’s lower lip, rough.
Minho groans and crashes them together again, sucking Jisung’s tongue into his mouth and swallowing his moans.
Minho grabs onto his waist and hits his prostate dead on. “Your pretty little cock is hard again, baby.” He’s close. Again. “You gonna come for me?”
“Yes,” Jisung babbles. “Yes, Min—ah!—Minho. Fuck, harder, please.”
“Such a little slut,” Minho says again under his breath. He bucks harder, almost bruising, exactly what Jisung wants.
He’s left a delirious mess of moans and whimpers. Jisung grabs for Minho’s wrist, tugging him off his waist. “Choke me,” he begs. “Jus’ a little.”
“Shit, yeah, fuck.” Minho doesn’t let up his brutal pace when he brings both of his hands up to Jisung’s thin neck. He wraps his hands around the hot skin. Jisung nods, and Minho squeezes.
He presses his thumbs just below his Adam’s apple, using enough force that Jisung is spluttering for breath, noises barely coming out. His vision starts to blacken as he struggles for air, and then Minho releases him, and he sucks down a breath before it happens all over again.
Low groans purse through Minho’s lips, and tears start rolling down Jisung’s temples. His neglected cock is red, about to burst with even the lightest of touches. Minho relinquishes his hold on his neck and smashes their mouths together. Jisung moans into the kiss, unable to match the voracity of Minho’s tongue, head still floating.
Pace slowing, Minho takes Jisung’s cock in his hand and pumps him once, twice, and Jisung is shooting cum over himself again, adding to the milky mess on his torso. He can feel the way his hole tightens around Minho, constricting.
Minho follows close behind, on a low moan of Jisung’s name. He fills the condom to the brim and fucks Jisung through both their orgasms.
“Shit,” Minho pants when he pulls out. Jisung whimpers at the loss, feeling how sore and cramped he is without the distraction of Minho. “Do you want help getting cleaned up?”
“I wan’ take a nap,” Jisung slurs, eyes drooping. He’s sticky all over but so, so tired now.
Minho lets out a breathy laugh and says, “Uh-uh. Let’s get you in the shower.”
It’s embarrassing when Minho picks him up easily, but Jisung couldn’t walk right now if he tried. Minho sets him down on the floor of the shower and gets everything for him before retreating out of the bathroom, leaving Jisung and his intrusive thoughts alone.
He slept with Minho. With Minho. Chan’s regular fuckbuddy. Does that constitute as cheating? Jisung isn’t sure if they’re exclusive, but with how often Minho is over or Chan is out, suffice to say that they probably don’t have multiple partners. Hell, at this point, they’re practically dating.
Jisung drifts off under the warm water for long enough that Minho comes back in to check on him, laughing when he finds him nearly passed out.
“You’re like a princess with how much you need looking after,” he jokes while he towels Jisung off. How can he be so normal about this?
Chan comes back from his classes in the early afternoon while Jisung is finally taking the nap he planned on taking. When he wakes up, both his roommate and Minho are gone. Jisung isn’t sure why, but he’s a little disappointed.
The two older men come back later that night with takeout for all of them. Jisung retreats to his room to eat, too ashamed to look Chan in the eye, and when he’s lying in bed, ready to fall asleep, he hears the familiar sound of Minho’s high moans breaching the walls.
“Chan, right there,” he hears loud and clear. Minho is being extra loud tonight, and Jisung knows that his headphones won’t do anything.
He shoves a hand down his pants and stuffs his fingers in his mouth and pumps himself in tandem with Minho’s whimpers and whines. When he comes, it’s at the same time that Minho moans his loudest.
The next day it’s silent outside his bedroom, and the day after that. Chan had texted him that he’ll be staying at Minho’s for a few days, so Jisung has the apartment to himself. He knows he has the prime opportunity to call someone over, but Jisung can’t get the memories of Minho fucking him on the table out of his head, or the way he sounded when Chan fucked him that same night.
When Jisung comes out of his bedroom the following Tuesday morning, ready to eat his cereal with milk this time, he finds Minho already sat at the kitchen table playing on his phone. Minho looks up when he hears the door creak.
“Morning, Jisunggie.”